


Not My Idea

by Aikaoftheimpala



Category: MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Comedy, Director Dave, Hollywood, Humanstuck, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:04:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aikaoftheimpala/pseuds/Aikaoftheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fine, I'll make a bet with you." Dirk crossed his arms.<br/>"Yeah?"<br/>"Yeah. If you're not best of fucking friends with Egbert by the end of your first season, I'll agree to an exclusive interview in your second."<br/>"Deal." You both shook on it.</p><p>Dave Strider is a successful movie director. John Egbert is not as successful movie critic. Dave is looking for a co-host for his new variety show and Dirk suggests his friend's brother. Both men are not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first fanfiction posted anywhere so we'll see how this goes.  
> Un-beta'd so my mistakes are my own.

Your name is John Egbert and you are a movie critic. Well, you call yourself a movie critic. People usually read your reviews and take the opposite as the truth and you think that's just rude. You are currently writing a review for the latest Nic Cage film and singing his praises because he is awesome and no one can tell you otherwise.  


“Who you gonna call...” You jump as your phone goes off. No one ever calls you on this phone. The caller ID reads “Janey.” Grinning, you flip open your phone.  


“Jane!” You shout, putting down the pen that you held. When you write your reviews, you like to write them on pen and paper before typing them up on your outdated desktop computer. Actually, most of your apartment is outdated. Movie reviews don't bring in the best money, but you love it. However much you like your job, you don't like your apartment. The sink leaks, there are water stains on the ceiling, your bed is shoved into the corner of the one room, the bathroom is in what appears to be a small closet, and the walls are a slate gray. Frankly, it's depressing.  


“John! How are you?” Your older sister chirps on the other line.  


“I'm great. What's the occasion?”  


“I can't call and check up on my little brother?” You can practically see her rolling her eyes.  


“Well, you can but there is usually a reason.” Jane is a cunning business woman, she always had a reason for coming in contact with you. It was usually to convince you to join in the family business, but, you tell her as your father before, that's not happening.  


“John, you know me so well. Alright, I may have an ulterior motive for calling you.”  


“Oh, I'm shocked.” You tease.  


"My friends brother is looking for a partner." She begins. 

“Jane, I may admit that I am not 100% straight, but you're not setting me up.” You scold. She laughs across the line.  


“A T.V. Show partner, silly. His name is Dave Strider-” You cut her off before she can continue, voice incredulous.  


“Director and writer of the sbahj series? You've got to be kidding me, Janey.” You roll your eyes, running your hand through your hair.  
* * * * * *  


“You've got to be fucking kidding me Bro. No way.” You are now Dave Strider and you are currently glaring at your older brother.  


“I thought you two would be a good match, I've met him before.” Dirk reasons. You snort and shake your head.  


“John Egbert is not a good match for me. Did you see what her wrote about my movies?” You cross your arms, gracefully sitting down on the white couch. You love your apartment. The walls are painted a deep red, there are three bedrooms, a fully stocked kitchen, and state of art gaming systems and mixing equipment. The place is huge.  


“Of course I have. You framed them and put them on your wall.” He pointed to the hallway where there were indeed four framed movie review hanging there.  


“Hell yeah I did.”  


“Give him a chance. According to Jane he wasn't open to the whole idea either.”  


“I'm shocked, truly.”  


“Fine. I'll make a bet with you.” He crossed his arms. You wonder why he is so dead set on John Egbert, but you can't pass up a bet.  


“Yeah?”  


“Yeah. If you're not best of fucking friends with Egbert by the end of your first season, I'll agree to an exclusive interview in your second.” Your eyebrows raise. The Dirk Strider, CEO of a company that produces robots and smut puppets, is agreeing to have you conduct his first ever interview.  


“Deal.” You shake on it.


	2. Derse and Prospit

Your name is John Egbert, and you cannot believe that you agreed to this. You are currently sitting on an admittedly comfortable golden arm chair in a coffee shop. Earlier this morning you had gotten a text from your sister telling you to meet Dave Strider here this afternoon. You debated not going and curling up in your bed and watching shitty television on your equally as shitty television, but you had no doubt that Jane would make the trip to your apartment to kick your ass. So you're here in _Derse and Prospit_ , waiting for your soon to be business partner. You're still not really comfortable with the idea of working with the director. For one thing his movies were shit, at least in your opinion. Another was that you did review them and gave not too flattering remarks on the clusterfuck that was Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff. You knew that he knew that you reviewed him, too. He made it clear on a stupid talk show the week after the premiere. He said something along the lines of, 'There are some special people out there that just don't understand art.' After that review people have just stopped even listening to your opinion and it fucking sucks. 

You fiddle with your golden mug half full of hot chocolate. You have to say that this place is really cool. There are armchairs and sofas everywhere in purple and gold. The ceilings are high, but the lights are low giving it a really comfortable air. The Barista seemed nice, but he didn't talk much. There was another more intimidating man washing the dishes in the back, eyeing you with clear distrust. Maybe this place was only filled with regulars? Was Dave Strider a regular? He actually did seem the type to frequent one place, but this shop wasn't in the best of neighborhoods. You should know, you live down the street. But, this place is most definitely a diamond in the rough and you plan to come back, Strider or no Strider. 

Speaking of Stiders, the old fashioned bell above the door rang clearly as a man strode (you chuckle to yourself, not being able to resist the pun) through. He was of average height and build, wearing a dark red shirt under a black jacket with skinny jeans of the same color. His blonde hair was neatly in place as if he had taken the time to fix it before he walked into the building. He seemed like any ordinary coffee snob, in your professional opinion, if it weren't for the trademark glasses that adorned his face. The big black lenses made it clear that this douche was none other than Dave Strider. 

* * * * * * *

You are Dave Strider and you love this place. _Derse and Prospit_ was a small coffee shop on the outskirts of the city next to a run down bowling alley and a laundromat. You had found it on one of your long runs that you used to take before you were recognized and pestered for autographs on the streets of this beloved city. The owners did not speak a word of English aside from the drinks on their menus and the pastries in the display cases, but you've somehow managed to get on their good side. The Barista was a short black guy that makes the best coffee you have ever had. You've taken to calling him The Mayor of Coffee Town, or Mayor for short. The guy is so sweet, you'd name him in your will as the rightful owner of your vast movie fortune. You can see the headlines now: 'Dave Strider Gives Mass Wealth to a Really Awesome Guy Who Works in a Coffee Shop'. Tears will be shed. We miss the generous movie director already. 

As you walk into the little shop of heaven, you spot a face you haven't seen here before. This place had loyal regulars, so a stranger stuck out. From the way he was staring at you, he was just the guy you came to see. Whop-de-fucking-do. Sighing, you make your way to the counter. 

“Mayor.” You shoot the guy a rare smile as he waves at you. You can't not smile for the Mayor. He is your one true coffee flavored love. You order your regular, an apple spiced latte, and meet the very fucking blue eyes of John Egbert from across the shop. Why was he even staring at you? Way to be inconspicuous, dude. Might as well get this show on the road. You pay for your coffee and give a generous tip to your best friend in the world before steeling yourself and sitting across from the movie critic in a purple armchair. 

“Sup.” You nod to him, blowing on the warm deliciousness in the purple mug. He looks at you and hell are those eyes are bright. You blame the black hair for giving a stark contrast to the fucking clear sky blue. 

“Hey.” He nods to you and looks back at the half empty gold mug of what looks and smells like hot chocolate. Who even gets hot chocolate? How old is he, ten? 

“So...” You try to start and change your mind in favor of drinking your coffee. He seems to follow your lead and takes a sip of his own drink. You had hoped he would try to start the conversation, but it was clearly up to you to do everything. “Alright, here's the deal. I don't know why my brother is so set on you being my co-host.” He looks up at that. 

“I don't know why my sister keeps on pushing me either. I mean, she always pushes me to do my best, but this is different and I don't get it.” He says honestly. You smirk and take another sip. “What?” he asks. 

“Oh, nothing. The movie review work not making bank?” You jeer. He rolls his eyes. 

“Wouldn't you like to know Mr. I'm So Cool I Own Seventeen Apartments In Every City of the United States.” He shoots right back. You lean into your armchair, regarding him critically. 

“Naw, I save my money on needless video game and DJ mixing equipment, not fucking real estate.” 

“Don't tell me you wouldn't convert a mountain into a Batcave of you could.” He smiles and God does he have the weirdest teeth. They seemed to fit him tough. Dorky cargo shorts, Ghostbusters T-shirt under a bright blue sweatshirt, and dorky teeth. A matching set. 

“If that's really what you would spend you're money on, then I am glad you don't have it. You wouldn't be able to handle the responsibility.” 

“I think I could handle it.” 

“Oh, who's big man on campus now.” You sneer. He looks down at his feet and chuckles. When he meets your eyes again, you can see a spark of mischief there. You hope to God he's not one of those prankster types. 

“I can show you just how big I am.” You are lucky you decided against taking that sip of coffee. The bus boy who keeps the place spotless of anything dirt, dust, or stain related would throw a fit if you spewed coffee everywhere. 

“Are you coming onto me Egbert?” 

“No, I just mean that you're all talk for someone so small.” 

“I'm not small.” You scoff. This guy was starting to get under your skin, which was an accomplishment for anyone you were not directly related to. He placed his mug on a side table and stood up. Before you could move, the bus boy scurried over and placed a coaster under John's mug and outright glaring at the dork as if he did something illegal. Egbert doesn't seem to notice, too focused on his show of mighty mangrit. 

“Yeah you are.” He crosses his arms and why the hell did you think he was skinny before goddamn look at those arms. You follow his lead, putting the mug on a coaster because you are not a careless jerk, and stand up to realize that he in fact is a couple of inches taller than you. 

“Would you mind telling me how a writer can have those trees for arms?” You cross yours as well. He smiles brightly, seeming pleased as peaches that you asked. 

“I volunteer to build houses and fix up homes.” Oh, Jesus, the guy was a saint. Why did Dirk throw you with this utter dweeb. They say opposites attract but this is fucking ridiculous. Why couldn't he find someone that liked the same shit as you and could match you on the coolness scale that you will not ever admit to thinking of again, who says shit like that? Then it hit you. No one wanted to watch a show where there were tow people who were exactly alike. You and Egbert were polar opposites. Dork and cool. Strong and fast. Critic and Creator. Dark and light. Even fucking red and blue. It was the perfect personality contrast and your older brother is a genius. 

“So, you in?” You ask. He blinks, clearly surprised. 

“Uh, sure. Do you have a name or anything?' 

“Now I do.”


End file.
